


Above My Paygrade

by captainimprobable



Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Retail, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-01-23 21:58:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21327325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainimprobable/pseuds/captainimprobable
Summary: The Trader Joe's AU that literally NOBODY asked for.I'm so sorry.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Comments: 34
Kudos: 85





	1. Pumpkin Cheesecake

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure I'm going to be the only one who finds this funny, but this came into my head while working at my register at Trader Joe's and I couldn't get it to go away. So I wrote it instead. Also I wanted to put Lio in a Hawaiian shirt, but I can't draw, so this is my next best thing. 
> 
> I love and hate promare so much yall

The lights were too bright, and Lio was about to lose his goddamn mind.

It didn’t matter that, technically, it was his fault that he felt like shit. So, yeah, maybe he’d had a little too much to drink at Gueira’s birthday party last night, and maybe “a little too much” was two shots because his tiny body had the tolerance of a 15 year old drinking his first beer, and yeah, the fact that he had a headache wasn’t actually the fault of the people who worked at the store, but damn if he wasn’t going to complain under his breath the whole time he was there.

He had to dodge three smiley grocery workers on the way to his destination, trying to wave them off as politely as possible while also giving out a solid “don’t fuck with me” vibe. It was a difficult balance, but they seemed to take his rejection well, each smiling and nodding at him like broken bobbleheads. 

It was terrifying.

He stomped over to the frozen section, his high heeled boots making an obnoxious clacking noise that was way too fucking loud. Wincing, he grabbed the pumpkin cheesecake that Gueira insisted he needed for his birthday from the freezer and, satisfied his journey was about to come to an end, walked back to the front of the store to get on line for the registers. Hopefully, he thought, the lines wouldn’t be too long at this time of day.

But Lio Fotia had never been to a Trader Joe’s before. This was his first time in Happy Hippie Hell, and so he didn’t know that there were three rules that every single Trader Joe’s must follow.

One, the workers had to be happy all the time. Lio had been told about this in advance, Meis warning him to be on his best behavior and not to get annoyed at them for talking to him. Lio could accept this rule. While he didn’t understand the allure of being perpetually happy, he understood that the workers were just doing their jobs. He’d made peace with it.

Rule two was that, no matter where in the country the Trader Joe’s was located, it had to have a parking lot that was impossible to navigate. He’d heard a rumor that one out of every 10 roadside accidents occurred in a Trader Joe’s parking lot.

Rule number three, the one Lio had not been warned about, was this: no matter what time of day, the lines will be long. Very long. Impossibly long. 

And so he found himself facing a veritable sea of people, every single register full as though it was the day before Thanksgiving.

Lio stared. It was Monday morning. Didn’t any of these people have lives? Or jobs? 

He ignored the fact that he himself had neither a life nor a job at the moment, and stepped up to the end of the line snaking its way out from register four.

Gueira had better be really fucking grateful after this.  
~~

Ten minutes later Lio finally made it to the front of the line. If he were being fair, he’d have to admit that ten minutes really wasn’t that long, considering the size of the line. But he was hungover and bitter and didn’t feel like being fair, thank you very much, and so it was with dramatic flair that he threw the cake onto the counter. 

“Hi,” he said, without looking up at the cashier. The sooner he was out of this bizarre alternate vegan and celery juice cleanse reality, the better.

“Congratulations to making it to the front of the line!” 

Lio winced. He was pretty sure he wasn’t just imagining that the cashier’s voice was about ten decibels too loud to be considered an “indoor voice”. He squinted at the man in front of him, managing to take in the blue hair and impossibly large arms before his ability to care ran out and he looked down at his cheesecake instead. He was getting fond of this cheesecake. He’d been through hell with this cheesecake. It would be hard to say goodbye.

“I hope your wait wasn’t too long,” the cashier interrupted Lio’s Inner Cheesecake Monologue by continuing to speak like an exclamation mark personified. “I try to be as quick as possible, but sometimes I end up talking to customers for too long and I get in trouble! Like, uh…like I’m doing right now, actually.” The cashier looked at him sheepishly, seeming about to apologize before his eyes widened in recognition. 

“Wait, Lio???”

Lio blinked, so surprised to be recognized by a stranger that he almost looked behind him to see if someone else was standing there. “Are..are you talking to me?” he asked the cashier, who he was now ninety percent certain he didn’t know. Lio peered closer to read his nametag, wracking his brain in an attempt to remember the name “Galo”. He came up with nothing. If he’d met someone with a name as strange as that, he was pretty sure he’d remember them.

“Of course I’m talking to you!!” Galo said, rolling his eyes as though he and Lio were in on the same joke. When Lio continued to look helpless, though, it appeared to dawn on Galo that this man had no idea who he was. 

“Oh god, you don’t remember me. That’s so embarrassing!! Now you probably think I’m a creep.”

Lio, refusing to confirm or deny, simply asked, “How do you know me???”

Galo laughed, his embarrassment apparently very short lived. “You go to school with my cousin! We were both at a party a few months ago. You know, the one where the police had to be called because someone let like thirty ferrets loose?”

Lio did, in fact, remember that party (getting run over by ferrets isn’t something one forgets quickly), but couldn’t place Galo there. Mostly because-

“Wait, that party was almost a year ago. How in the world do you remember me from that long ago??”

Galo shrugged. 

“You were very…memorable,” he said honestly, without a shade of embarrassment. Lio felt his ears slowly turning pink. What did that even mean? It was a little weird but, if he was being honest, he was slightly pleased. Nobody had ever called him “memorable” before.

“I- I mean..” Galo stuttered, seeming to realize that was kind of a weird thing to say. “I just mean, I remember you, but I don’t-“

The awkward moment was interrupted by an angry BEEP coming from the card machine. Galo looked at it curiously, while Lio groaned.

Shit. He couldn’t afford a seven dollar cheesecake.

The customers in line behind him were starting to get restless. Apparently he’d taken up too much time talking to Galo, and this card infraction was the last straw. He sensed there would be a mutiny soon if he didn’t leave. He sighed. “I lost my job,” he explained to Galo. “A month ago. I guess my funds finally ran out, I’ll just take this back to the freezer and come back later-“

He was interrupted by the impossibly loud sound of a bell ringing. “TWO BELLS,” Galo bellowed, as though the fact that he rang the bell twice wasn’t good enough and he had to narrate for anyone who was confused.

“Uh, okay,” Lio tried again, starting to back up slowly. “I’m just going to bring this cheesecake back and-“

Galo plucked the cheesecake out of his hands, shaking his head. “You can’t leave yet, I called two bells!”

“Yes, I heard. Which means…what?” An evil grin spread across Galo’s face, but he otherwise did not react. That most definitely was not an explanation. What the hell could two bells possibly mean, and why did a grocery store have bells at every register? 

An idea dawned on Lio. It was an idea so stupid it could only have been thought up while he had a hangover, but it was an idea regardless. 

Oh god. They were going to put him in Trader Joe’s jail.

“Alright, so, I’ve gotta go…” Lio started, but before he could turn to leave Galo’s hand closed around his arm in a vice grip. “Nope,” he said cheerfully. “You’re coming with me. Thanks for covering for me, Aina.”

A pink haired girl appeared out of nowhere to take over the register, and Galo started dragging Lio further into the store.

What the fuck was going on?

Galo clearly wasn’t going to answer, and, though Lio kept giving other customers desperate looks, nobody appeared to want to help him.

Finally, Lio slumped, allowing himself to be guided towards a desk in the corner. This was his fate now. 

He idly wondered how much bail would be.

They arrived at the desk. Galo still had not relinquished his hold on Lio’s arm, and his grip only seemed to get tighter as he formally told the man behind the desk “I must speak with The Captain.”

The man behind the desk nodded solemnly and picked up a phone. “Attention Trader Joe’s customers and crew,” he reported to the store at large. “Would The Captain please attend to the Bridge. I repeat: will The Captain please attend to the Bridge.”

Lio had questions. 

Who was The Captain, and why did a grocery store have someone named “The Captain?” Was he being arrested over seven dollars? Did poor college students frequently get reported to “The Captain”, and, if so, were they ever heard from again? 

He was about to bolt when a shadow fell over him. He looked up, shaking, to find an imposing blonde man with a moustache as impressive as his physique analyzing him.

“I was summoned?” the man said in an impossibly deep voice. Lio gulped and tried to make himself as small as possible. Considering he weighed about 100 pounds, it wasn’t that hard. Unfortunately, Galo seemed intent on keeping Lio in the spotlight.

“Yes sir,” he said, putting Lio in front of him and clasping his shoulders. “I have a very important request.”

The Captain raised an eyebrow in response.

Galo appeared to take that as a sign to continue. “Sir!” he said, much louder than was necessary. “I’d like to give this man a job.”

Lio blinked in surprise, as did The Captain. Galo blinked too, though it was more out of human necessity on his part than anything else.

“Hmm,” The Captain said at last, leaning in to study Lio’s face. To his credit, Lio stood up straight, offering up a look of challenge. He may not have been entirely sure what was going on, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let some stranger intimidate him.

The staring contest continued for a few minutes, until The Captain swiftly looked away. “Galo,” he said, with the air of someone who was afraid to know the answer. “Do you even know this guy?”

Lio figured this was as good a time as any to start talking. “Look, I’m not here to get a job, I barely know Galo, actually, so-“

He was instantly cut off as Galo put his hand on Lio’s mouth to shut him up. Holy shit, the man’s hand was ridiculously huge. It was downright unnecessary.

“Actually, sir,” Galo continued in Lio’s stead. “This man is my best friend, and I vouch for him.” 

“What?????” Lio tried to say, but as his mouth was still covered, it came out sounding more like ”buh???” Which, unfortunately, was not very effective. 

The Captain grumbled. “Your best friend, huh?” Galo nodded emphatically. “Yes, sir. I vouch for him completely, and if he’s bad at the job, you can totally fire me.”

“BUUUHHH?????”

Lio fervently attempted to speak, but Galo’s hand was freakishly strong. 

The Captain, ignoring the fact that Lio was technically being held captive, narrowed his eyes.

He inspected Lio for a few more seconds, and then nodded to himself. “Okay,” he said. “I normally wouldn’t do this, but we’re desperate, so he starts Monday.”

“WHAT?”

Lio managed to finally free himself from Galo’s hold, but before he could speak, The Captain had disappeared. Lio turned on Galo instead.

“First of all,” he said indignantly, “I BARELY KNOW YOU, so this is completely out of line. Secondly, I don’t take charity, and I don’t need you to feel bad for me. This is completely unacceptable, and I am not taking this job just because you felt bad that I couldn’t buy a fucking cheesecake.”

Galo looked surprised, like it hadn’t occurred to him that what he did could have been misconstrued as offensive in any way. “I…I didn’t mean to embarrass you or anything.” Lio raised an eyebrow, and Galo finally managed to look ashamed. 

“Oh my god, I’m such an idiot, I didn’t realize it came off that way. Ughhh” He groaned, putting his head in his hands. “See, I do things before I think sometimes, and it usually gets me into trouble.” He scratched the back of his head self consciously. “I just…ever since I saw you at that party I’ve felt like I know you, even though that maybe doesn’t make sense, and I know we’ve been seriously short staffed so when you mentioned not having a job my mind just put two and two together and started running before I meant to…kind of like Aina warns me not to do all the time.” Galo sighed. “I’m really sorry,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t think that through at all, and the last thing I wanted to do was upset you. If you don’t want the job it’s all good, I’ll explain everything to The Captain.”

Lio didn’t know how to react to such open honesty. He was good at getting angry, but he couldn’t seem to keep his rage stoked when the man looked like a sad puppy. 

And, well…he did need a job.

Like, he really needed a job.

Lio sighed, fully aware that he was about to regret absolutely everything. His rational brain attempted a last ditch effort to politely inform him that he should, under no circumstances, accept this job. But Rational Lio was not in charge today. This was Hangover Lio, who possessed a total of three brain cells and once downed six milkshakes before remembering he was severely lactose intolerant. 

“Fuck it,” he said out loud. Galo perked up, springing from upset to hopeful in record time. “Yes…?”

Lio winced. “Yes,” he admitted. “I don’t have to wear a Hawaiian shirt, though, right?”

The surprised grin Galo gave in response made the whole thing almost worth the trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not this will be ongoing. I haven't attempted an ongoing fic in like...six years? So let me know how I'm doing! Or catch me at @captainimprobable on tumblr to talk about these boys.


	2. Cat food. For Cats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *skates in four months late with Starbucks*
> 
> Lol hey guys, long time no see? I'm gonna finish this story! It just may take awhile. Thanks for being patient with me! I barely edited this so if there are issues now you know why~
> 
> (Im also working on two kiribaku fics for bnha because Im trash, but thats another story lmao)

By the second day, Lio realized he’d made a grave mistake.

He was a millennial, so naturally he’d worked retail before, but Trader Joe’s was a beast he didn’t know if he was quite ready to contend with. At his previous jobs, it hadn’t mattered if he was dead inside. As long as he could fake a smile or even a grimace, he was good. But at Trader Joe’s, the smile was part of the uniform. He didn’t have to just be civil, he had to be _friendly_, which was absolutely horrifying and not at all nice to discover.

The least shocking thing about his new job was that Galo was very good at it. He’d only known him for about 15 hours, but Lio could already tell that Galo was a) disgustingly charming, and b) ridiculously strong. The charming part was obvious; it soon became clear that while most of the other workers used charm and friendliness as a business tools, Galo seemed to really mean it. His earnestness was occasionally embarrassing, but it was just so obviously pure that it was hard to fault the guy for it.

As for the strength, well. The job turned out to be one that required a lot of heavy lifting, and Galo seemed to shy away from shirts with sleeves. It wasn’t that Lio was _looking_ at his arms. He couldn’t help that they were there, right in front of him, continuously flexing and straining.

Right there. In front of him. All day.

Some things about this job, Lio supposed, weren’t so bad after all.

  
After one of Lio’s long bouts of not-staring-at-Galo’s-arms, something occurred to him.  
  
“Hey Galo,” Lio asked curiously, interrupting a particularly overdramatic flex (they were working the snack aisle, and potato chip boxes probably weighed about one pound, making the pose unnecessary. That was very typical Galo, too).

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you wear a Hawaiian shirt?”

Galo suddenly looked like a deer caught in headlights. This was Lio’s first clue that something was very wrong.

When Galo neglected to answer, whistling obnoxiously as though Lio might somehow think he hadn’t heard the question from two feet away, Lio persisted.

“Come to think of it, why do none of the crew members I’ve met wear Hawaiian shirts?”

When his attempt at feigning deafness seemed to fail, Galo attempted to backtrack. “Uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about, actually, I’m wearing a Hawaiian shirt right now-“ he gestured to his shirt, which was very obviously of the tee variety: plain black, no bananas or flowers in sight. Lio glared as he continued. “This is just a new style called the ‘casual Hawaiian’, you know, like, if you’re in Hawaii but it’s not _that _serious, so you-“  
  
Lio cut into his rant with dawning horror.

“Galo, you don’t wear a Hawaiian shirt. Aina does not wear a Hawaiian shirt. In fact, the only people who do wear Hawaiian shirts are Ignis and Remi. Explain.”

Galo suddenly came down with an intense coughing fit that was clearly an attempt to stall for time. Lio watched him coolly, expression unchanged. He could wait this out. He had all the time in the world. His break wasn’t until three.

When Galo finally realized his spontaneous bout of sickness wasn’t working, he grumbled. “Uh, see, the thing is….well. The thing is that…”He trailed off and muttered something into his hand.

“I’m sorry,” Lio said menacingly. “What was that?”  
  
“I said…ugh, fine. I said that only managers wear Hawaiian shirts.”  
  
Lio blinked. “Did I get a promotion and wasn’t informed?”

Galo’s deer in headlights look made its triumphant return. “Well no, but-“  
  
“Then why,” Lio said, voice alarmingly quiet, “am I wearing this garish orange monstrosity?” He gestured to his shirt, which had smiling pine trees on it. It was horrifying.

To Lio’s surprise, Galo did not clam up, or get defensive. Instead, a sly smile spread across his face, the likes of which Lio hadn’t seen since Spongebob uttered the hallowed words “You like Krabby patties, don’t you, Squidward?”

Lio immediately hated himself for thinking in memes, as that was obviously beneath him, but then quickly amended. All hatred was to be directed at Galo Thymos. He was the true enemy.

“We thought it would be…funny? Well, Lucia thought it would be funny. Because, yknow, you walked in here with this serious black fancy shirt, and you looked so scary, Lucia thought it would be entertaining to see you wear…that.” He gestured to Lio’s entire being.  
  
“And you went along with it?” He’d expected better from Galo. Sweet, sensitive Galo, who would never do something so underhanded. But then Galo snorted, clearly amused, shattering his original perception. Apparently the man was just as sneaky as the rest of them.

“Yeah, cuz I thought it would be cute,” Galo answered earnestly. “She even got you one a few sizes too big, and you should see yourself, Lio, you look so mad but so cute swimming in this bright shirt. It brings out your eyes!” Galo sighed, a big smile on his face. “You’re like an angry Pomeranian, and it’s kind of hilarious.”  
  
“You find my anger funny?”  
  
Galo thought about it, putting a finger to his chin in earnest contemplation. Finally, he put his hands together and pointed them at Lio.

“Yes.”

Lio paused for a second, considering. “I’m quitting,” he finally said seriously. Galo, the bastard, actually had the audacity to laugh. “You aren’t quitting, you love it here.”

“IT SUCKS HERE,” Lio fired back, which wasn’t entirely accurate but hell if he was going to let Galo know that.  
  


Galo rolled his eyes. “Don’t be such a drama queen, Lio-“ Lio huffed indignantly. “Oh, I’m a drama queen now?”

“Well yeah, it’s just a shirt, why do you even care that much-“ “You all _lied_ to me, which is seriously wrong, and-“

“Ohhhhhh myyyyyy goooodddddddd.” Galo and Lio paused, faces inches away from each other, slowly turning to look towards the squeaky voice. Unsurprisingly, Lucia was strolling by, strawberry lollipop hanging casually out of her mouth. “Do yall need a marriage counselor? ‘Cuz I know a guy.”  
  
Lio’s face went beet red. “I’m- I’m going on break,” he stammered, but not before ripping off the shirt, leaving him to stomp away in just a black tank and skinny jeans.

“Aw, man, Lucia, I feel kinda bad, don’t you?”

Lucia’s responding laughter followed him all the way to the break room.  
  


* * *

He should’ve known Lucia Fex would be a force to be reckoned with when he’d heard a couple of the other crew members chatting about her (dude, did you hear that Lucia got kicked out of her school’s Chemistry club for building a tower of desks and melting them all?). As head artist for the store, she apparently spent most of her time in the basement, presumably making signs. Lio had half believed her to be an urban legend, so when Ignis asked him to go downstairs and ask Lucia about the status of a mural she was designing, he did so with trepidation.

The basement was a labyrinth of rooms that seemed to go on forever, which didn’t quite make sense to Lio considering their store was barely the size of a 7/11. Yet Lio somehow _still_ managed to get lost and had to periodically stop other workers to ask them where the art room was.

“Oh, you mean Lucia’s lab?” said a coworker he was sure he’d never seen before. The man was covered in dust, and his bright T shirt was ripped in three places. He looked as though he’d had a serious fight with a feral squirrel and lost. Lio was half tempted to ask him if he lived in the basement, considering his state of dress and the fact that he didn’t seem as though he’d seen the light of day in years. Remarkably, he abstained.

“I’m sorry, lab?” he asked instead. “I’m just looking for the place where they make the art. Lots of paint, probably signs everywhere?” Squirrel Boy snorted, as though amused by Lio’s apparent naivety. “Yeah, man, you’re looking for the lab. Down that left corridor, but careful, the lights stop working halfway down.”  
  
Lio looked away from the man’s unsettling smile to follow his pointing finger instead. To their left was a hallway Lio was pretty sure hadn’t been there before.

So their basement appeared to be alive. Lio didn’t give it much thought. It _was_ retail, after all.

He turned around to thank the crew member, but he was gone.

Trying valiantly not to feel as though he was the idiot in a horror movie running towards the murderer, Lio forged ahead.

Squirrel Boy hadn’t been kidding. The path to the “lab” (whatever that meant) sloped gently downward, growing darker with each step Lio took. After about two minutes of walking, the lights cut out completely. Determined not to be unnerved, Lio turned his phone flashlight on and cautiously continued until he saw a square of light up ahead. Pocketing his phone, he approached the room with trepidation, emerging at last in what could only be described as a cave. An honest to god, bears-could-live-here cave. There were stalactites hanging from the ceiling, which made absolutely zero sense, since this was supposed to be a _Trader Joe’s basement._

Once he’d emerged from the fog of confusion that had descended on him upon discovering that nothing made any sense anymore, Lio finally looked around the room, taking in all of the other absurdities. First observation: the room was positively overrun by robots. Heaped on every available surface, half made, some with insides sparking as though they’d just been worked on. The robots with faces seemed to blink at him, while the robots without faces just sat there like...well. Like robots, he supposed.

Looking around at the array of machinery, Lio tried to remind himself that this was supposed to be an art room, but try as he might, he couldn’t see any art supplies anywhere. No markers, no paints. Nothing. Just giant robots and a tiny girl hunched over a table in the middle of it all.

Lio took a deep breath and stepped bravely into the cave. “Lucia?” he asked, trying to sound sure of himself. The girl looked up, and Lio got his first image of Lucia Fex. She was small, as he’d observed before, half of her height coming from two huge pink and blonde buns on the top of her head. They seemed pretty top heavy, and Lio wanted to ask her if she fell down a lot, but felt that would be rude. Lucia regarded him through her visor.

“Are you here to deliver my new art supplies?” she asked in a squeaky voice, tilting her head.

“Um…no. I work here.”

“Oh.” As soon as it became clear that Lio wasn’t there to give her anything, she turned back to her welding torch, promptly ignoring him once again.

Lio was about to ask why she had a welding torch at all, since this was supposed to be a fucking art room, when his train of thought was interrupted by a small rodent scampering up Lucia’s arm.

Lio startled backwards. “Um, Lucia…I don’t know how to tell you this, but there seems to be a rat on your shoulder.”  
  
Lucia didn’t even look up, simply grunting in affirmation as she set her torch to a higher setting. “I know.”

“You…you know that there’s a rodent on your body? And that doesn’t...worry you?”

Lucia snorted, still not looking up from her work.  
  
“Why would Vinny worry me?”

“Vinny?”

“Yeah,” Lucia said slowly, as though beginning to think Lio was kind of stupid. “Vinny. He’s our mascot.”

“Why does a grocery store need a mascot?”

Finally, Lucia looked up. She flipped her visor up and happily tickled “Vinny” under his chin. The rodent looked delighted. Lio ran over his salary in his head, mentally attempting to decide if his paycheck was worth whatever was going on right now.

  
“Haven’t you ever heard that each Trader Joe’s has an animal mascot? This is, like, something they cover in the initial training, dude, you should really start paying attention.” As she spoke, Lucia opened a desk drawer, found three sticks of gum, and unceremoniously shoved them into her mouth.  
  
“Isn’t the mascot supposed to be a stuffed animal, though?” Lio was pretty sure he’d read about that. Each store had a stuffed animal mascot, like a dog or an owl. Kids had to find it to get a prize. It seemed fairly straightforward, and he was pretty sure there was no mention of a living, breathing rat in the handbook.

Lucia rolled her eyes, chewing her gum. “Yeah we’ve got the stuffed one upstairs, but obviously he was based on the real thing.”

Lio was definitely _not_ getting paid enough for this.

“So…so you have a rat. Living in the basement. Of a store that sells food. Does the regional manager know about that?”  
  
Lucia gave him a look that implied that no, the regional manager did not know, and if he told her he’d sorely regret it. She casually raised her blowtorch and lazily waved it through the air in his general direction.

In the end, Lio left without asking about the signs. Some things were just better off left alone.

* * *

He was helping Aina pack out the pretzels a few days later when he began to learn the true nature of the Trader Joe’s customer. He thought he’d known what to expect, having worked at his Dad’s bike shop for a few years, but this. This was something different.

An elderly woman approached them in the snack aisle, looking positively menacing. She squared her shoulders, glared at Aina, and said in a sour apple voice “How DARE you be carrying that box.”

Aina looked down at the box of pretzels in her arms, and then looked at Lio, who was at a loss for words. Trying to find a suitable answer, but finding none that fit, Aina finally said “Uh. What?”

“That. Box.” The woman insisted, eyes glaring daggers at Aina. “You are a woman. Why is this young man not carrying the box?”  
  
Lio held his breath. He’d only known Aina for a day and a half, but he’d observed enough to know that this could not go well. He watched as a variety of emotions played across Aina’s face, until at last she summoned her Retail Voice and said “I’m fine, ma’am!” in a sickly sweet voice. Her smile never wavered, but she subtly flexed her biceps, which were twice as big as Lio’s.  
  
The woman grunted, unimpressed. “But what about your uterus?”  
  
The aisle was silent. Neither worker moved for a solid ten seconds, until at last Aina looked at the woman, and then up to the ceiling as if expecting someone to be recording a prank. When Ashton Kutcher neglected to appear, she finally took a deep breath and bravely asked “My uterus?”

The woman was positively livid now, as though Aina was being deliberately obtuse. Lio half expected her to punch Aina in the face.  
  
“What about,” the woman tried for faux sweetness this time, evil still simmering in her eyes, “When you want to have kids? You’re going to _break your uterus.” _Aina opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, at a loss for words. “Break…my…”

“Uterus, yes,” the woman finished for her. “Studies show that carrying heavy objects has a negative affect on one’s uterus. In some cases, the uterus _breaks_. And you just can’t go back from that, now, can you hon?”

The woman sympathetically pat Aina on the shoulder in a facsimile of affection and then walked away, content that she’d spread her wisdom.  
  
Lio thought he’d seen it all, then. But oh, how wrong he was.  
  


Something Lio hadn’t known about Trader Joe’s before working there was that customers could return anything. It was a point of pride for the store, and a source of great consternation for whoever was behind the desk when someone attempted to return something that the store hadn’t sold in five years, or that was clearly months past its expiration date.

A tall man approached the desk one day while Lio was changing the office’s garbage bags. “How may I help you,” Remi, the manager on duty at the moment, asked sincerely.  
  
With no preamble, the man slammed a can down onto the desk dramatically, as though the item had severely offended him, and then loudly announced “This tuna is disgusting.”  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry about that, sir,” Remi began, reaching for the can. “I’ll get right-“

He stuttered to a stop, then stared at the can for a solid ten seconds before a small grin appeared on his face. Finally, Remi looked up at the man, mirth clearly dancing in his eyes.  
  
“Sir,” he said, clearly attempting to sound serious, “this is tuna…for cats.”

“What?” The man squinted at the can. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Remi very calmly asked which aisle he’d gotten the can from.  
  
“That one,” the man said indignantly, clearly pointing to the petcare aisle. Remi steepled his fingers together and regarded the man.  
  
“This is tuna for cats,” he said again, slowly this time. “As in, this is cat food. It says on the can that this is cat food…for cats.”  
  
The man sputtered wildly for a few seconds, before bursting out with a “well it tastes _horrible,” _and stomping away without waiting for his refund.

* * *

“The Freezer is hard to work because it’s super cold, and you always need to keep a table propping the door open, or else the lights turn off and you get locked in!” Galo was clearly excited to be in teaching mode. His earnestness was cute, if a little bit unnecessary.

“Today we’re gonna be working solely on frozen breakfast foods, which is all the way in the back! Now, before you go in, you need to put on this jacket and gloves!”

Lio surveyed The Freezer, which was essentially just the size of a New York studio apartment; about as wide as a closet, but four times as deep. He could see the frost on every surface, but steadfastly brushed past Galo, ignoring the jacket and gloves he was offering.  
  
Galo gaped at him as Lio calmly walked to the back of The Freezer in nothing but his newly acquired black T shirt and jeans. “Lio, what the fuck, its like 5 degrees in there! Even I wear a shirt. AND a jacket. Do you know what a big deal that is?”

“I grew up in Vermont, Galo. Have you ever lived through a Vermont Winter?” Lio smirked. “I just run hot.” Galo stared at him for a moment, mouth open and eyes wide, before coughing into his fist and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “yeah you do”. Unsure of whether he heard correctly or not, Lio blushed lightly and tried to hide the smile on his face.

The second surprise for Galo arrived once the boys finally finished stocking the breakfast aisle and moved on to the slightly warmer fridge to work on produce.

Lio casually threw bags of carrots over his shoulder and walked it across the room, placing it gently on the boat without assistance.

Galo promptly lost his shit.

“Lio, those are basically the heaviest products we have, what the fuck?” He put down the broccoli he was carrying and grabbed Lio’s arm, shaking it a little so it flopped side to side. Lio tried to pretend the contact didn’t set him on fire when he asked “So what?”

Galo blinked.

“Okay, don’t take this the wrong way! It’s just….well…your arms are kind of like limp noodles?? I just didn’t expect you to be so…strong.” The awe in his voice was palpable.

Lio stood up a little straighter and shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, well. I was bullied in elementary school, so my mom signed me up for self-defense classes. They were in a gym, and I kind of just fell in love with everything about it, I guess. I’ve been working out since I was twelve, but my arms just didn’t seem get the memo.”

“Wait wait, a lot to unpack here,” Galo made the time out sign with his hands. “First of all, and most importantly: could you bench press me?” He looked at Lio with stars in his eyes. “Obviously not, dumbass.” Lio looked away to hide the blush covering his cheeks. This was starting to become a theme when he was around Galo, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it.

“I’m strong, not superhuman.”

“Oh.” Not letting this deter him, Galo continued. “Follow up question: who bullied you and can I kick their asses?”

Lio snorted. “That’s sweet, Galo, but one: it was like ten years ago, and two: didn’t you hear what I said before?” He smirked, eyes boring into Galo’s. “I already did.”  
  
The stars returned to Galo’s eyes. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “That is so badass.”

They spent the rest of their shifts bickering about who had the better workout routine (Galo), who could take a robber down faster if one broke in (Lio), and who would win in an arm wrestling contest (jury still out, to be determined at a later date).

By the time 5:00 came and it was time to clock out, Lio realized he almost didn’t want to leave. He walked out the front door with Galo and they parted ways at the sidewalk, but Lio stood there for a few extra seconds, lingering on the way the setting sun made Galo’s blue hair look like a mini inferno.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every single thing that happens with customers in this story is an anecdote that happened irl to either me or a coworker. I can't make this shit up.
> 
> hmu on tumblr or insta @captainimprobable to talk about these boys!


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